Colin F. Jones


Today it’s me, myself and I,
Tomorrow my son will live or die,
Defending this same mythical resort,
That dwells in the minds processed thought.
It never changes; war goes on,
And we call them heroes every one,
Who lose their lives for promised peace,
For war without it cannot cease.
For the seeds of peace are sown by war,
And peace opens up the festering sore,
That off we go to die again,
For we cannot live without the pain,
That gives us reasons to think that God,
Made soldiers guardians of the sod.